


The Last Dwarf

by NowThatsDedication



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Angst, BotFA, Do-Over, I'm Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 22:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3464237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NowThatsDedication/pseuds/NowThatsDedication
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn’t want to die. Not like this.</p>
<p>Be careful what you wish for, Fíli. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A “what if Fíli survived?” one shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Dwarf

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic. I'm not sure what I'm doing so please be gentle. Comments are greatly appreciated.

Fíli only sees gray. It is an eternity before he recognizes the dreary winter sky above. He feels each snowflake that lands on his face. Complete silence surrounds him, except for his own labored breathing.

He must have fallen but he can't recall the details or sensation of it. He doesn't want to remember. Only the thoughts that roared in his head beforehand remain: _Why won't they run? I don’t want to die._

Fíli lifts an arm toward his chest and an excruciating pain wrenches his whole being. But he perseveres until his fingers meet the hidden armor beneath the shirt. _No blade can pierce it_. The mithril was found buried beneath piles of weaponry in Erebor. He had not known what it was but it looked strong and valuable. His brother should wear it...

"Kíli, take this," he had ordered. After a brief attempt, Kíli handed it back. "It doesn't fit. Here, you have it." And so Fíli wore it reluctantly - into battle, into the trap that awaited them at Ravenhill.

_I am alive._ It is a gift he cannot understand. There must be some purpose, a reason he was brought back from the darkness.

Kíli. Where is he? Fíli expects to see him when he rolls his head to the side. But he is not there. No one is. He attempts to rise to his feet and is met with a harsh blow, an invisible kick to the ribs.

_I must find Kíli, he is in danger._

He drags himself up and lets out a sharp cry as the ache in his back rushes outward to every part of his body. His head is splitting in two, a fire burns behind his eyes, and something is not right with his legs.

Each step is unbearable, but he trudges up the stone steps in search of his brother. The pain grows stronger yet so does the drive to save Kíli. He needs to climb higher. Nothing will stop him from going further.

Until Fíli discovers him lying in the distance, sprawled and still.  _Please, let it be a trick of my mind. Please be alive._

Fíli limps across the ruins as fast as he can manage. _Please, no. No._ He kneels beside him and prays for a sign of life.

"Kíli?" he whispers and strokes his brother's dark hair. "Kíli, I'm here now." He places a hand on his chest but feels nothing. No breath, nor beating heart. He is cold. There is no life in him.

"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...forgive me," he pleads through choked sobs.

Fíli sinks down from the weight of despair, drowns in its bottomless chasm. He is hollow - his spirit has been carved out and the void is brutal.

Memories, well-worn after decades of fond recollection, come flooding back: of wooden swords and imaginary adventures that always ended in their warm beds, safe from all dangers. The innocence of their youth, the mischief of later years. He won't hear Kíli's laugh again, or see his eyes flicker with ambition.

Fíli cries not only for the past but the future - all that was meant to happen and never will. The two of them, princes of Erebor, crowned and splendid. And one day, when Fíli was bestowed the title of king, Kíli would be at his side. How different it turned out to be. All for a pile of gold and crumbling stone. _Curse it all_. Nothing is worth his brother’s life.

Fíli doesn't know how long he sat cradling Kíli's body. Time has no meaning now. The physical pain has ebbed. All he feels is the crushing of his heart. Thorin will find them soon. How can he face his uncle? _It is all my fault._ They should not have separated. He should have fought harder.

Footsteps crunch on the freshly fallen snow. Fíli does not move, nor acknowledge them. Kíli is all he sees. Nothing else exists in the world.

"How...how...Fíli?" Dwalin stands frozen as if a ghost is before him. "I saw you fall, saw when...how could you survive!?"

Fíli gestures to the mithril peeking out from his shirt without looking up. "I should not have. I don't deserve it. I wish I were dead and K-"

"It's not your fault, lad.

Fíli would never have allowed Dwalin or anyone to see him cry, see him so weak. He no longer cares. He is weak. He can't fool them any longer.

"Will Thorin understand that?"

Dwalin doesn't have to say a word. It is written on his face.

"No...NO!"

Fíli still holds on to the childish notion that Thorin is invincible. Even the dragon sickness could not conquer him. Thorin can't be dead. Fíli needs him more than ever. They both can't be gone. They left him behind, to survive on emptiness and fear.

"He's...gone. I'm sorry." Dwalin fights back his own tears and drowns out Fíli's anguished cries.

"And that means...you...you are our king."

The words sink into Fíli like fangs, stinging with ferocity through flesh and bone. They echo louder and louder until they shatter the last shards of his soul.

He is supposed to be king, many years from now. When he is older and wiser, after he learns from his uncle. Not now.

This is not right. It's not real. _Wake up from this nightmare._

"I can't...I can't be a king!"

"You have to. But we'll help you. You won't be alone."

"No, I can't. I couldn't protect my own brother, how can I rule a kingdom?"

"You don't have to make a decision now-"

"I've made my decision! I don't want any of it," he looks down at Kíli, "not without him beside me."

"Come with me, we will sort everything out. You'll have time to heal."

"No, I can't face the shame of...surviving. You are the only one who knows...tell them I died and my body fell under the ice. Can you do that?"

Dwalin shakes his head in disbelief. He wipes his eyes and clears his throat.

"Fíli, no-"

"You must! For me, I beg you. I don't want to go back to Erebor. There is nothing there for me. I am no king, I never will be."

"Aye, if that is what you wish," Dwalin realizes he can't force this broken young dwarf back with him. He himself contemplates running away for a brief moment. There is too much grief here.

"Where will you go?"

"I want to disappear. I don't want to be Fíli anymore. I don't want to be a coward."

"Don't say such things about yourself."

"Tell my mother...tell her that I did my best to save them." Fíli's voice cracks at the thought of his mother and the sorrow she faces. But he promised he would keep Kíli safe. It's better if she believes he died fulfilling that vow.

Fíli runs his hand along Kíli's peaceful face. It feels wrong to leave him. But he knows Kíli isn't really with him at this moment. He is far from here. He is safe now. _Until we meet again, my brother._

"Goodbye, Dwalin. I shall not remain here as a shadow of myself." They nod to each other in understanding.

Fíli limps away without a direction. Fleeing his birthright. Leaving half his soul behind.

********

Once the shock wears off, after miles of struggle, Fíli realizes his injuries are far worse than he initially determined. It is too late to go back and too far to reach any imminent destination. He may have been spared the blade but the fall damaged something inside of him. Like his heart, it is unlikely to heal.

Movement becomes more difficult. Fíli staggers along his own crooked path, bracing himself on trees and boulders for support. Soon reduced to crawling, he fears. Removing his heavier outer garments does little to alleviate the problem. He flings the mithril to the ground and curses at it for prolonging his life. He does not dare remove his boots, for they must be keeping his clearly fractured bones in place. Only short, shallow breaths are bearable to his aching lungs.

He is familiar now with the taste of blood, thick and coppery in his throat. His violent coughs stain the white-dusted earth a deep red. _This is all that is left in me_. But he is slowly losing that as well. The fits become more frequent. The blood does not wane.

Night falls, and Fíli is not prepared to face the darkness. The first night sleeping alone in his entire life. Another torture he must endure. He waits for sleep to take him but it does not come. He wishes for a respite from the agony, for a comforting hand to assure all will be well again. The hours pass. Silence - only his own faint whimpers drift across the black sky. The sun rises and so must Fíli.

Death is his foremost thought. It creeps into his mind like a billowing dark smoke. It stalks him like a shadow on the edges of his sight. He can't run from it. It is his only companion now.

_Such a cruel fate. I wish I never woke._

Fíli believes he is damned for eternity to wander these lands, between the living and the dead. This is punishment. _I could have saved them. I failed. I deserve this._

He begs to the sky. _End my wretched life. Make the pain go away_. His regrets, and the image of Kíli's lifeless body, will haunt Fíli until the last breath leaves him. Anger festers beneath his wounds, a new burning that can't be quelled.

Every breath is a spear piercing his sides. Fíli must accept he will leave this earth choking on his own blood, alone and pitiful. _This is not how my father died. Not how they died._

Dying should not be this hard - he has done it once before. Now that he knows what is waiting for him, he welcomes it. _I’m coming, Kíli._ He will face it with bravery this time, not in fear like before.

He lowers himself against a tree. He can go no further. The pain, the guilt, the sorrow is too much to bear. The view of the forest reminds Fíli of home. Not Erebor, but the only home he knows.

_I want to go home._

A rattle clamors deep in his chest and his limbs grow numb. He suddenly remembers the events on that overlook. The sensation of falling, the dull stab - why now? A wind whips strands of hair across his face. Cold...he is cold. Alone.

Flashes of a wasted life taunt him as he squints his eyes toward the sun.

****

So much gold. Treasure piled up to the ceilings.

The sun sets over the Blue Mountains.

_I can’t... I can’t be a king!_

Mother kisses his forehead. "My brave little child..."

Rowdy dwarf songs echo through the halls.

"You will never amount to much if you do not focus." _Yes, Uncle._

Dancing light reflects off his sword, heavy in his hand. Blinding, beautiful light.

_Forgive me._

The fire climbs higher. Embers flutter into the lake.

“Fíli, this quest means everything...we must go!”

_Run_

He can no longer breathe. It hurts...

Calm. Darkness.

_Kíli_


End file.
